


The Gift

by breejah



Category: The Hunger (1983)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, F/M, Groping, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breejah/pseuds/breejah
Summary: John expects to spend an eternity in decrepit, unending pain - his penance for falling in love with a vampire all those centuries ago - but a surprising savior resurrects him with the gift of something so much sweeter.Rated M for sexual innuendo, blood exchange, typical vampirism displays, and descriptions of death.





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> It's October and - as my mind is scattered once more into a frenzy of writing - decided to do a one-shot (perhaps multi-shot, if you folks like where this is going) addendum to the David Bowie Movie 'The Hunger.'
> 
> Halloween is near and - who doesn't find vampires sexy as hell, especially those resembling the late and great Starman? I know I do!
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

 

As  _ she  _ fell over the ledge towards her death, decaying as she fell - the liar, the charlatan, the deceiver - John closed his eyes, fully expecting to tumble with her. But two strong hands steadied him just as his feet moved closer to the edge and he found himself moving backwards, being tugged down gently, strong limbs helping his withered ones comfortably settle on the dusty floor of the attic that had become his tomb in recent months.

Turning his head painfully towards a soft whisper of noise, trying to coerce his eyes into seeing what he no longer could distinguish, he instead found himself surprised to feel the trickle of warm blood coat his lips.

" _Drink_ ," a soft feminine voice whispered as more trickled against his mouth.

Suddenly, like a brush ignited by wildfire, that creature that sang to him from his blood burst to life again, making him moan as he gulped and swallowed greedily. More came with his moans and he suddenly had the energy to sit up, seek out the source, opening his mouth as his teeth remembered how to function and elongated at the sweet taste of  _ life _ that the substance offered, not even realizing until his hands clasped a smooth pair of shoulders that he was slowly returning to how he’d once been, before Miriam had lied and robbed him of what he had thought he had bargained for - life everlasting, with youth everlasting.

Slowly, he blinked, pulling back, licking his lips as he stared at his savior, able to finally see as his eyes healed and drew sharply into focus. Shock flickered over his features as he stared up into the smiling mischievous face of the doctor he’d once sought to help cure him before he realized what Miriam had swindled him out of - Doctor Sarah Roberts, an expert in her field of rapid aging, still as beautiful and mercurial as she had been before with a hidden depth to her gleaming amber eyes, voluminous auburn hair, and rose-tinged smile. 

Opening his mouth to say something, she pressed a finger to his lips and made a few other slits on her throat, then his, forcing him to follow her instruction. “ _Later._ For now, _drink,_ " she reminded him again, hovering over him as more blood seeped from the self-inflicted wounds, tugging his mouth closer to her throat. "Feed from me again, then me you, and again and again. A few more times, if my calculations are correct. That way, you’re free - like me.”

He did as she asked, struggling to contain the often occurring side effect of arousal each time he fed, sitting up and shucking off his ruined jacket, rolling up his sleeves to offer his arms, though she politely declined and chose to use his neck like he did. Impressed at her acceptance of all her newfound condition, he simply nodded, not quite yet ready to look at himself in one of the dusty mirrors across the room, fearing he still looked haggard, feeling the blood she’d offered freely still working on restoring him to his former glory.

“ _ Why? _ ” He finally asked, once they stopped to her specifications, licking his lips and pulling back, trying to hide his reaction to their shared feeding of one another. She was beautiful - even moreso since her transformation - and he struggled not to straddle her and tear her skirts away and thrust into her warm, heated flesh. He knew, instinctively, that she'd be perfect once he sunk inside - tight and warm and achingly responsive, and he grit his teeth briefly to slow the burning drive to claim her as his own. By the glow in her eyes, she struggled with the same effects of the feeding, and he felt moderately comforted that he was not alone in his struggles. 

“I figured I owed you at least this much,” she panted, struggling to stand. He stood, much more used to the light-headed drunken state to follow such a copious amount of blood, barely suppressing a growl as her soft form brushed against his harder one. He was nearly returned to his former state, his body letting him know as much as his cock flared eagerly to life as her fingers gently gripped his wrist, pressing on his pulse. Gods, he wanted to fuck her -  _badly._

“I’ve killed people. Innocents, murderers, children and the elderly. You owed me nothing,” he replied, studying her reaction. He was a capricious monster, through and through, no matter what type of face he wore, and wanted to know,  _ deep down _ , if she’d react with disgust or curiosity - or perhaps a mixture of both. He hoped she reacted with interest, never having thought as she revived him what he'd do if he found himself suddenly alone after all these centuries.

He was rewarded with a steady stare, a shallow swallow and a pursing of her lips, finally followed with a soft shrug of one shoulder. “You’re a vampire, I expected as much.”

Hunger like he had never felt suddenly welled up within him and the predator buried in his blood sang at finding someone like her. He steadied himself, pressing forward with a lunge, snagging her lips with his own, his tongue plunging, demanding, subduing her own. She moaned, but responded, her arms tightening around his shoulders as his own clasped her hips, nudging his own forward, letting her feel the outline of his arousal bluntly probe at the soft space between her thighs.

“N-Not h-here,” she murmured, pulling away. The animal in him roared furiously at the denial but the man simply nodded, refusing to remove his arms as she struggled to back away, unable to strip too much away from the furious beast that wanted to claim the newfound companion in the female by his side.

“I may never let you go now,” he whispered in warning, struggling to form words around his swollen, sensitive eyeteeth that rested against his lower lip. He leaned forward, nibbling at her collar bones, delighted to hear her moan once more at his ministrations. “What do you say to that?”

“Th-that’s fine, too. I admit...you probably know more about this whole thing than I do. But first...can we….not be _here?_ This place creeps me out. Let’s go someplace else.” She whispered, gently trying to find his one of his hands with her own, curling her fingers once more around his wrist and giving a gentle squeeze.

_ She didn’t say no,  _ his mind chanted back at him, only able to release her when she admitted she would allow him to keep her. He nodded, pulling back, studying her as she studied him.

“So...John, right? Blaylock?” She whispered, curling her arm around his elbow as he gently moved them towards the stairs, reaching for her purse as they wandered down the marble staircase, towards the front door. He nodded, never losing sight of her eyes as she struggled to take in his appearance.

“Yes,” he replied. “John has always been my name, but my surname...can be anything you’d like, sweet. What about you, Doctor Roberts? Do you prefer me to call you Sarah, or something else?”

She paused as they moved past the front door, towards her car in the distance, her brow furrowing as he held his hand out and she absently placed her keys in his palm. “Call me….Genevieve. That’s my middle name. I always liked it.”

“Genevieve,” he murmured, testing the sound of the name, smiling faintly at her as they neared the car. “I like it.” He paused, opening her door, turning her to face him as she swallowed again once catching sight of the interior of her vehicle, knowing that what she was about to do - drive away from that mausoleum - for that is what it was, having long since lost the title of townhouse or mansion once the bodies became clear to her and to him - was about to change her life forever.

Offering her one last chance of freedom, he stroked her jaw, silently encouraging her eyes to meet his, staring at her beautiful face. “This is your choice, sweet Genevieve. Shall I make you mine, or shall we part here? Whatever debt you think you owe me is paid. You’ve given me what I always wanted, without reservation or deceit. If you allow me, I will show you things and love you like no other could. No, I don’t love you yet, but I daresay I could after what you’ve shown me so far. Do you accept my offer, or wish me to leave you?”

Holding his breath, he watched her, consuming every tangled thought that shifted across her open face - something he’d have to teach her to subdue if he had his way. Smiling faintly, he sensed her acceptance before she voiced it, his teeth throbbing to life - along with his cock - as she fixed his stare with her own and surged forward, kissing him and murmuring her reply. “I accept your offer, John.”

_ Oh, you sweet thing - you’ve made the right choice,  _ his body sang to her as he briefly gave into the kiss, then gently pulled back, watching her own eyes clash angrily with his, her teeth flashing brightly with her brief snarl, making his cock surge again at the sight. “Then let’s go,” he replied, dashing the brief reverie between the two of them, watching her swallow her own arousal and slide into the passenger seat of the car.

Glancing back at the house as he moved to the driver’s side, he smirked at the place and the no doubt spattered ruins of his former lover at the foot of the back staircase that led into the garden, opening the driver’s seat door and sliding into the car by the woman who’d resurrected him, turning the key in the ignition and starting the engine, pleased at the purring roar that greeted him.

_ Enjoy hell, Miriam,  _ he thought as he looked over at his new companion - Genevieve - and drove away.


End file.
